Corpse Bride
by Comeswithaprice97
Summary: This is incomplete, but I've been working on it since last Halloween and I needed to get it published tonight, so Happy Halloween! Hopefully it'll be finished by next weekend.


Killian Jones had spent the majority of his life alone in his room.

It wasn't that he wasn't handsome or likable or just overall unsettling to others, he just rather enjoyed spending time in his own company than in that of others.

And thus was the reason Killian found himself in his room on the morning of the eve of his impending nuptials.

To a woman whom he'd never met.

Not that he had ever had many encounters with women that weren't his mother (he spends the majority of his life in his room, you see), and never any of the romantic sort, but to be wed to an utter stranger?

It's just, well, he found this quite odd.

Yet, his parents weren't the most well-off folks in the Enchanted Forest, and after his brother had passed-God rest his soul-it had been up to Killian to assume the role of the eldest son.

And it was the duty of the eldest son to marry into a wealthy family and bring pride and honour to his own, and damned if he wasn't an honorable man.

And so, he found himself at his desk, sketching a wayward butterfly that he had happened to capture in a jar-so as to capture its magnificence on paper-and smudging out the charcoal at the edges of its wings, mimicking their flutter on his canvas sketchpad. He had always loved to draw, and when anyone had asked him about it, asked him why he'd rather sketch than sword fight (not that he didn't know how, he was an excellent swordsman, some even venturing to call him a master) or play outside with the other children in his small town, he told them that he found a sort of solace in art that he never knew before, never with anything else. It consumed him, and he just-he had an urge to capture all of the beauty that he saw in the world on paper. To _immortalize_ it. 

Needless to say, all who heard this found him to be mad. But Killian was hoping that perhaps the woman he was meant to spend his life with would understand his quirks, understand his passion for art. However, he'd never heard great tales of two people finding true love through an arranged marriage. In fact, he'd heard horror stories of living a life with someone you didn't fall for.

But, he hoped. And hope was a powerful, powerful thing. Or so he'd heard.

Once he was finished colouring in the iridescent blue and faint traces of magenta that had lain in the crevices of the butterfly's wings, he held the jar up to the open window, and released it.

"Here's hoping you have a far greater day than I, friend." He muttered as he watched it flutter away, northbound towards the town square. After a moment, he closed the window and left his room, making his way downstairs.

"Killian!" His mother scolded the moment he reached the end of the banister. "What _are_ you doing, moseying about? You've a bride to meet!" She hurried over to him and dusted off his clothes, scowling when she noticed the charcoal smudges staining his hands. "You've been drawing? On a day such as this?"

"Mother, I draw to clam my nerves." He explained calmly.

"And what do _you_ have to be nervous about?!"

"Perhaps the fact that you're marrying me off to a woman I've never met tomorrow!" He said exploded in frustration. His mother flinched and narrowed her eyes at his outburst, causing him to shrink in on himself in his shame. "I apologize, Mother." He said with a sheepish grin.

His mother meant well, that he knew. She was just so...overbearing. She was an older woman, with dark hair and light eyes, her porcelain skin finely lined with age. It was obvious that she had been a very beautiful woman in her day-not that she wasn't now-yet now she was aged and slower than she had been in her youth, plumper than years past.

It was no wonder his mother had wanted to elevate to the heights of society.

Killian had no choice but to abide to her wishes.

His mother sighed in her exasperation. "Killian, you know that your father and I only want what is best for you and your children. For the family name! We are but noveau riche fish merchants! Humble folk, and our wealth has not been accumulating with age, but with hard work. We are still seen as those middle-class fish merchants we were twenty years ago, despite the wealth we've acquired in the years past. Your marriage to the Lucas girl will ensure our rise to social aristocracy." She finished with widened eyes, a pointedly raised brow, and, what Killian saw as, a frightening smile.

"You'd marry off your only living son to a woman he doesn't know, let alone _love,_ all so that you and Father can be known as _aristocratic fish merchants_?!" He asked in disbelief.

"Oh, Killian, dear, when you put it like that it sounds so terribly vile and unkind. That's hardly what we're doing, darling. We just want you to be well-off. Don't you see? This is the only way for us to ensure you'll be happy."

"And my happiness should be bought by the wealth and social graces of an upper-end girl?" He asked incredulously.

"But of course, dear." She said, as though it were obvious. "Now, hurry along, and meet us in the carriage. We don't want to keep them waiting." She bustled off towards the door, leaving Killian behind in the foyer of his family's dark "mansion-esque" home.

"Well of course not, because that would be very bad form." He muttered in contempt. Not for his mother, of course, but for the whole situation. He just always thought he'd marry for love, but, perhaps in this realm, that was just not possible.

He sighed and followed his parents out the door, and to their lavish and, admittedly tasteless, new horse drawn carriage. It was dark and incredibly tacky, covered in posters complimenting the Jones' company, featuring his father posing with one of his most prized catches. And, on the top of the carriage, a large and ridiculous fish laid in a foolish pose.

"Must we parade around in this ridiculous contraption? Especially when the Lucas family lives just across the way!" Killian said, gesturing wildly with his arm, as he made his way into the carriage in the seat across from his parents.

"Killian!" His mother admonished at the exact moment his father yelled, "Killian, do not punish the carriage for your lack of taste in vehicular attraction! And of course we'd like to arrive in style to meet your bride-to-be!"

Killian groaned.

The drive was relatively short (they lived _across the street_ from the Lucas family, for goodness sakes), and quite soon the carriage had halted to a stop in front of the Lucas mansion.

"It's a beautiful day for a glorious wedding." His mother chirped excitedly as she stepped from the carriage to the cobblestone walkway before the steps leading up to the mansion. His father followed his mother, and Killian reluctantly stepped out of the carriage and onto the walkway.

"More like a day for eternal damnation. Or at least something of the sort." He muttered as he walked down the cobblestones.

He had no idea just what awaited him on this beautiful day.

Killian instantly realized that the Lucas's utterly abhorred him.

It wasn't in the words they said or the way in which they acted toward himself and his parents, rather in the forced smiles they hastily threw their way after one of his mother's-admittedly horrible-jokes or his father's quips. It was in the way they grimaced at any mention of the wedding that was set to take place the following day, and in the way they sighed when they met him, as though he failed to meet their impeccable standards for their daughter's future groom.

Ruby, his intended bride however, was not as unpleasant as her parents. Her mother-interestingly coined Granny (for her righteous ownership of a fancy and popular tavern in the town) and her father, Moe (a rose salesman with a lovely family name and a nice nest of family money) may have been quite ignorant and rude, yet she was kind enough.

A pretty young brunette with a bright smile, it seemed peculiar that she hadn't found an intended yet. She was polite, sweet, and complimented him on his musical abilities (which he had embarrassingly demonstrated to her-unbeknownst to himself-after he had been left alone in the foyer of the Lucas home and simply couldn't resist playing out a melody on their grand piano). She was not a musician, as she'd explained to him, yet could appreciate great music, and he definitely could produce wonderful melodies.

The compliment softened him to her a bit. Yet, he still found himself dreading the impending marriage.

He wasn't _in love_ with her.

He doubted he ever would be.

After her mother had come in and scolded them for being alone together-how ridiculous, as they were to be _married_ tomorrow-they went in to meet Pastor Hopper, to practice their vows.

Three hours later, and Killian was still stumbling through them.

"Master Jones," the Pastor said, with a hint of exasperation in his normally collected tone. "From the beginning. Again."

Killian nodded his acquiesce.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine." Pastor Hopper read from his book of vows. Then, he locked eyes with Killian. "Let's try it _again_." 

"Yes. Yes, sir." Killian agreed, nodding quickly. He cleared his throat. "With this candle," he began, and attempted to light the candle on the flame provided for him, once, twice, three times. And it didn't take. He glanced back at his parents, who looked as exasperated as the Pastor, and the Lucas's, who were groaning and grimacing in their seats.

The Pastor cleared his throat at Killian, and he realized that the candle had finally lit.

"With this candle," he said again, and let out a breath, which, effectively, snuffed out the flame.

Everyone in the room groaned, save for himself and Ruby.

"Let's just pick up from the candle bit." Pastor Hopper supplied helpfully.

The doorbell rang quite loudly and Ruby's father Moe had their butler Grif answer the door.

He returned quickly with a card, and proclaimed, "A Lord Baelfire, sir."

Moe grunted in response and Grif left the room.

"I haven't a head for dates," the man proclaimed snobbishly as he entered the room. "It appears I'm a day early for the ceremony."

Killian chanced a glance at the man. He was tall, yet not as tall as Killian himself. He had dark, fluffed up hair, and brown eyes. He was dressed in the obnoxious clothes that only royalty would wear, and he had an air about him that Killian could only describe as, "douche-worthy".

Though his mother would beat him upside the head, should she have heard him mutter any such term.

Granny and Moe muttered to each other about who the unknown visitor could possibly be, before calling for Grif to fetch the man a seat, which he hastily did.

"Do carry on." He stated, with a ridiculous hand gesture.

"Let's try it again, shall we, Master Jones."

"Yes. Yes, sir. Certainly." He nodded, as Ruby lit his candle with the flame of her own.

" _Right_." The Pastor gritted out.

"Right." Killian said, before fumbling and almost dropping the candle, before catching it stealthily. He held up his right hand. "With this," he began for the 119th time.

" _Hand, hand._ " The pastor told him.

"Hand." Killian corrected, and took Ruby's in his own. "I will," he said as he took four steps and collided with the alter.

" _Three steps, THREE!_ " The Pastor exploded, and Ruby gasped. " _Can you not count! Do you not wish to be married, Master Jones?!_ " 

" _No, no!_ " Killian hurriedly replied, to which Ruby said, "You _don't_?" 

"No, no!" He responded with a quick shake of his hand, so as not to anger his parents nor hurt the poor girl's feelings. Or _her_ parents' feelings. "I mean I do not _not_ wish to be married." He insisted. "That is, I want very much to-" A clonk on his head with the Pastor's staff interrupted him as he cried, " _Pay attention!_ "

"Ow!" Killian cried, holding his head.

"Have you even remembered to bring the ring?" The Pastor asked.

"The ring! Yes, of course," Killian said, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve the ring. Once he'd held it between his thumb and forefinger, it slipped from his grasp and rolled towards the door. His mother gasped, and Granny Lucas groaned theatrically. He chased after it.

"Dropping the _ring_!" Pastor Hopper cried. "This boy doesn't want to get married!"

 _'How very true,'_ Killian mused to himself.

His mother protested loudly, as Killian realized that the ring itself had rolled... _under_ Granny Lucas's gown. However, he'd only realized this _after_ he'd reached under the gown and grabbed the ring, held it up and stated, "Got it!" With a grin.

How terribly embarrassing.

The woman screeched, Killian grimaced, and then he realized that the blasted candle that wouldn't light for the life of him, finally had. And lit the hem of the woman's gown on fire.

"Out of the way, ninny!" Moe yelled, as he scrambled to stomp the fire dead.

His parents jumped up and attempted to quell the blaze, and amidst the chaos, Lord Baelfire stepped over and poured a glass of wine on the fire, putting it out.

" _ENOUGH!_ " Pastor Hopper bellowed, as he stepped out from his place behind the alter. "This wedding cannot take place until he is properly prepared!"

All eyes fell on Killian, who winced at the unwanted attention.

"Young man," the Pastor said lowly as he pointed at Killian. "Learn. Your. _Vows._ " He glared at Killian threateningly, and Killian gulped, backed up against the door, fumbled for the knob, and hustled his way out of the room. And out of the mansion.

"Well," Lord Baelfire claimed to the now silent room, whilst playing with his fingernails. "He certainly is _quite_ the catch, isn't he?"

Killian had run to the outskirts of town, hoping to find solace at the Troll Bridge, where he could always collect his thoughts if he wasn't in his room. He'd been there for a few hours, and it was now well past dusk and quite dark out.

He felt a whirlwind of different emotions, all separate yet connected, swirling throughout his person. He felt embarrassed, for having been such a fool back in that room all those hours ago. He was ashamed that he had made a fool out of his parents. He was guilty that he had shown, quite obviously, that he was not as invested in this wedding as he should be and that he wasn't in love with-nor would he ever be in love with-Ruby, when she was a kind enough lass who deserved a great partner. He was exhausted after such a long and trying day, and, most of all, he was forlorn. He grieved the fact that, barring any inconceivable obstacles, this time tomorrow he would be a husband to a woman whom he did not love. He would be lonely and alone in a marriage he never wanted in the first place.

He sighed at his predicament.

"Oh, what has my life come to?" He mused aloud. "She must think I'm a fool. Poor lass is marrying a fool. This day couldn't get any worse." He dropped his head to his hands with a prolonged sigh in anguish.


End file.
